


the end (roll credits)

by motorghost



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Breaking Up & Making Up, Growing Old, Growing Old Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Up, McHanzo Week 2020, dumb old bastards try and make it work in the (late) autumn of their lives, making promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motorghost/pseuds/motorghost
Summary: Hanzo and Jesse have broken up a couple times by now. They’re in their early fifties; times have changed, dreams have evolved. They’re trying to make sense of the present in the context of the past and what they both hope for the future.[McHanzo Week 2020 Day 2: Scars/Promises]
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 18
Kudos: 132





	the end (roll credits)

**Author's Note:**

> Vimeddiee made me remember how much I enjoy break-up/get-back-together fics, and while i'll probably write a different, longer one eventually, this idea popped into my head for today's prompt wholesale. It's a bit more angsty than your general fanfic, but it has a happy ending! Happy and a little bittersweet. Grown-up love.
> 
> Again, written in one sitting. All my mchanzo week prompts are going to be kind of slapdash, but that can be fun!
> 
> Hope you like it! <3
> 
> title for this fic inspired by radiohead's "motion picture soundtrack"

It was two years before Hanzo stopped imagining that he’d spotted him across a crowded room, a dark road, or at any of the alternate vantage points whenever he took down another mark. It was one year before he stopped looking at his phone at the same time every day, knowing Jesse would be somewhere with a drink in his hand, debating doing the same thing that Hanzo wanted to do so badly. It’s been four years since they broke up.

It was their third parting, but this one feels like it might stick. They didn’t leave with hot words or wet eyes. They were lounging in a small hotel in Vĩnh Long, right on the river, with a little balcony Jesse liked to smoke on whenever they had an argument. There was a lot to argue about in those days; the war had re-started in earnest and both of them were at the cusp of fifty. A lot of questions came up that had never come up before. And a lot of old answers no longer felt good enough.

“Think I should just move on,” Jesse had said. He looked so handsome with the gray flecks in his beard, the silver starting at the root of his hair part. He would be silver-white all over before he was through.

But he also looked tired, and Hanzo knew that that was partially because of him. So he packed up in silence and left the same way.

Hanzo used to dread old age, but he hasn’t found it to be as bad as imagined. He used to fear that he’d grow to live more and more inside of his imagination. That he’d cling to the glory days of his youth so fiercely that it would take him out of reality entirely. But that hasn’t been the case. He hasn’t lost a step when it comes to his work. He no longer kills unless under special circumstances. He takes holidays with Genji and his family, which he always enjoys. He has a few friends he cherishes. There are reasons to look forward to the day, even if Jesse isn’t there when he wakes up.

Now he is fifty-two and thinking seriously about what he will do when his body can no longer count on itself to survive his risky work. He used to think he and Jesse would retire together, buy a ranch and some animals, slowly learn a new trade with each others’ support. He never voiced this idea to Jesse. He never voiced a lot of things. But it was a real thing inside his heart, so much so that it’s difficult now to imagine anything else. Anything less.

But Jesse may not be the type to ever settle down like that. He would wax nostalgic about the ranch he used to work on when he was a teenager, before meeting Ashe and starting Deadlock. Used to talk about how sometimes that life doesn’t sound so bad. There was regret there, but Hanzo always thought that Jesse wasn’t being entirely honest with himself. What attached the gunslinger to the ideal of a simple life wasn’t as strong as whatever it was that drove him to a life of danger. He would’ve chosen the former long ago if that weren’t the case. That farm-life stayed such a fairy-tale speaks volumes about its true purpose: as a whip to strike himself with whenever faced with the scars of the life he _did_ choose.

But Jesse is a man who clings to the idol of his better nature, and Hanzo never held it against him. He often relied on it to keep from his own darker impulses.

In many ways, Jesse guided Hanzo into the light. At first Hanzo only wanted to be alive because it meant he got to spend time with Jesse. But the illusion of a beautiful savior quickly faded. That was when they broke up the first time. Then he found that light in himself and they got back together. Then they said stupid, evil things to one another and split with fire in their eyes. Then the fire faded (slowly, on account of their mutual stubbornness,) and they came together again, this time strongly enough that Hanzo thought it would last forever.

But things change. It’s the only thing he’s come to trust, which is probably another thing Jesse taught him. Things fade, or morph, or disappear entirely. A tiny bullet can remake the world in a fraction of a second.

Perhaps it is the insecurity and cling of old age, but Hanzo has been thinking more and more about permanence. His legacy is taken care of in the lives he’s touched, and he has been lucky enough to have had a positive influence on many since the day he woke up from the dream of self-damnation. Most of the names have faded, but a few haven’t. Genji. Jesse. Mei. Akande. Lúcio. Connections he knows will always exist, no matter what happens to his body.

But there are things he wants for the remainder of his life. He wants to see if he can take all the worn-out threads of his heart and spin it into gold. He wants to see if he can shape the future he has left into something even more remarkable than what he’s already been gifted. He's seen miracles work within and without; things have happened to him and for him that his younger self never would’ve dreamed. And there’ve been nightmares—more than his share—but he’s woken up so many times by now. Jesse always counted on the ephemerality of fortune, good or bad. Hanzo wants to see if he can call good fortunate to sit with him for however long he has left.

It’s not too much to ask, he thinks, that he wake up to a person he knows loves him for exactly who he is. Who cares for him in ways he took decades to learn. Hanzo wants a partner, and he doesn’t want to memorize a new set of freckles or get annoyed by a whole new set of habits. He wants _his_ freckles, _his_ annoyances. Maybe his stubbornness is growing as rigid and brittle as the fibers of his brain, but this past year has been especially serendipitous in showing him just exactly what his soul desires. And it has Jesse's face.

And it's not like asking for Jesse McCree is akin to asking for heaven on earth. The man is hopelessly in love with his own point of view, his own voice of justice. He thinks himself a set of divine scales, constantly attuned by forces Hanzo can neither foresee nor influence; only Jesse decides what can or cannot tweak his engineering. Yet he never wants to leave well enough alone, either. He demands words from Hanzo when Hanzo has none, no matter how many times Hanzo tries to teach him that some people are not gifted in conversation. He makes up and re-makes his mind a thousand times over, then still insists on his own straight-forwardness, his own flawless precision. Willful when he wants to be, overly pliant when he doesn’t.

And, yes, Hanzo has hurt him. He was outright cruel to Jesse when they first met and if it weren’t for their colliding destinies, he doubts they ever would’ve fallen in love. But they did, and even then, the cruelty didn’t end. Hanzo kept so much to himself that Jesse’s stubborn insistence on his own point of view was probably all that kept them together; his instincts taught him Hanzo's meaning and he gave the benefit of every doubt. Eventually, he required more than just the voice inside his own head to feel Hanzo's love, and demanded words to go with action. Hanzo refused. He refused until the pain of being by his own wretched self proved too much to handle. Then the co-dependency persisted until Jesse admitted he himself was too wretched to be anyone’s guiding light.

They deserve each other. Not only in sick ways; Hanzo may not have said much, but he could sneak under Jesse’s radar and destroy him with his wit in ways that left the cowboy in tears, bringing up how funny Hanzo was to anyone who would listen for days on end. Hanzo lifted Jesse out of the dark almost as many times as Jesse lifted him. When they worked together, it was as if Jesse were the sights upon which Hanzo laid his every shot; as if they were one machine. And no one could show his love through action the way Hanzo did. And no one could sweep Hanzo off his feet and voice what he thought was unspeakable the way Jesse did. Even towards the end, they were drawn to one another like they were the last of their kind. Hanzo still comes to the imagined sound of Jesse's voice, no matter how many times that voice demanded things from him that he was unable or unwilling to give.

Maybe it always comes back to Hanzo’s inability to feel as though Jesse truly understands him. That he is able to hear the meaning behind what his words try and always fail to convey. For a man of such power and grace, Hanzo has always been accused of interpersonal clumsiness, and that always comes back to his poor communication. He wasn’t raised to share his innermost feelings with another. He was raised to live and die inside the walls of Hanamura, and the language of Hanamura was one of gestures and silence.

But if he can try, and if he demonstrates that he is willing to try, then Jesse will likely follow suit. Now that Hanzo has come to terms with himself and what he offers as a single agent, they can both decide to become a real team.

He has to figure out if Jesse has learned the same first.

They agree to meet on a Sunday. In their honeymoon phase, Sundays meant lazy mornings, freedom and unplanned wildness; the kind of safe spontaneity Hanzo never in a million years thought he’d get to experience. Now they’re in a warm hotel room on the outskirts of Dallas and Hanzo is sitting in a room that Jesse has obviously slept in for a couple weeks now. The air is acrid with cigar smoke and unspoken feelings. He’s in the desk chair while Jesse sits on the bed.

At first, they talk about nothing much. Jesse starts in on a story about the last time he saw Angela and Hanzo notices the harsh, grating sound his voice makes. He gets up to bring Jesse a glass of water. Then he listens some more. He missed listening to Jesse.

Then he gets up to sit beside him on the bed, the faded scales of the dragon brushing against Jesse’s bare arm. “What did you do to celebrate your fiftieth?”

Jesse smiles in that rueful way he does whenever he’s done something inadvisable but highly characteristic. His voice still sounds like a rusted radio in the middle of nowhere. “Got another tattoo. Drank lots of my favorite. Went to see Jack n’ Gabe.”

Hanzo wouldn’t usually imagine spending your birthday at a graveyard as an appealing choice, but only Jesse has ever known what is right for Jesse, and he learned long ago that his opinion isn’t always welcome or necessary. “How were they?”

“Not so bitter this time,” Jesse hums.

“They have had time to think.”

“Probably spent their first few years dead not speaking to each other.”

“Time apart can mend many things.”

“Or just make you forget,” Jesse snorts. "Until it all comes back to you just to fall apart all over again."

Hanzo wants to put his hand on Jesse’s hand. He doesn’t know if it’s truly the right thing to do or if it’s just the power of his own desire making him rationalize the move. He doesn’t know if it will make things easier for Jesse or harder. He wants him to be happy. He knows he could be happy without Jesse in his life.

“I want you to be happy,” he says, putting his hand on top of Jesse’s gun hand. “I know I have said it before. But I mean it this time. I don’t want you to make a decision based on whether or not it makes you a good man. Your happiness isn’t stealing from anyone else’s.”

Jesse says nothing, but from the look on his face, Hanzo finally feels like Jesse can hear his true meaning.

He touches the scars along Jesse’s bare arm. Together they have more scars than are worth counting. But they both carry towards them the same attitude: that scars are evidence of their willingness to heal. To keep on living.

“What if we made a promise,” Hanzo whispers, gliding his fingers down Jesse’s inner forearm, “And the promise became the point?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What if we decided to be together and just... left it at that?”

Jesse chuckles. “You said you didn’t want to get married.”

Hanzo looks down. “I did?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Hanzo looks at Jesse. “Then I changed my mind.”

They’re both too old to still believe in grand gestures, but Hanzo gets down on one knee anyway. When Jesse looks down, his face is cast into shadow.

"You can keep your hand on your gun if you want," Hanzo says, speaking slowly, trying his absolute hardest to choose his words carefully, "But I won't try to dodge this time. I'll never try again."

Jesse sniffs, head still lowered. He brushes back that streaked hair and gives Hanzo a crooked smile. He still looks tired, but then, Hanzo probably looks exhausted. Jesse kisses him anyway, his hand soft on Hanzo's jaw. He whispers, "I don't wanna ask for promises."

Hanzo whispers back, "You don't need to ask. I am giving it to you."

"You might change your mind again."

"I doubt it. I have had a long time to think it over."

"You might regret it."

"If I do, I will remember why I made the promise and the regret will pass. The promise is the point."

This time, Hanzo isn't sure he is being understood, but when Jesse holds his face and shares his air, it feels like enough. More than enough.

Then Jesse chuckles, "Don't cry, sweetheart. I ain't said no yet."

Hanzo looks up and Jesse takes both of his hands.

Jesse says, "No."

Hanzo doesn't feel anything; he's suspended in numbness, like sitting at the highest arc of a roller coaster right before the plunge.

Then Jesse's brows shoot up and he snickers, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Yes. Let's get hitched."

Hanzo freezes again, then swears in Japanese and punches Jesse in the thigh. Jesse clutches his leg, crying out in pain, and Hanzo climbs on top of him, still cursing as he shoves Jesse's face into the mattress. _"Stupid bastard._ You are a stupid bastard! Who would find that funny?!"

"Mother _fucker,"_ Jesse winces and laughs as he tries to fight off Hanzo. "Think you broke something."

"I'll kill you!"

"I'm sorry! I was never gonna get another chance to do that! It seemed like a good idea at the time!"

Hanzo continues cursing and trying to pin Jesse until Jesse gives up, letting Hanzo clutch his wrists to the mattress. Then Hanzo kisses him with tears still in his eyes, half-biting just to vent the aggravation.

Then he presses down with his full weight and feels Jesse hard beneath him. "You like make-up sex far too much," he mutters.

"Well, it's the last time." Jesse grins. "So we better enjoy it."


End file.
